• rachita

Direst Rush


Not a word the wind spoke

In the direst rush

Waiting under the banyan shade

Blowing to and forth..


It saw the lovely creatures

So much filled with joy

Some clearly visible on the boughs

Others secretly stuffed.


They meant the life it had

A sweet pinch of buzz

The sounds that erupted out

Out of its silent berths


No ecstasy more powerful

Than this plot had been

So as to plug in joys into the bereaved

Life around the Earth


They called on the seven colors

After a splash of rain

They welcomed with open arms,

The migratory birds


It was the only natural authentic piece,

In the haven of lust.

Where the eyelids rise after each night

To crave for bigger bucks.


Now that thoroughly important day,

The morning it has to be chopped.

To supply some amount of wood,

To the languishing Furniture Shop.


The sun moans from a distant shade

Of red spread far above

Its only jolly disciple

On the deserted land was plucked!

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